Page 19 of The Sinner's Bargain

My thoughts were paused when a second set of lights cut into our path. They illuminated Wiley, turning his stooped frame into a silhouette. He pushed off the hood and turned to face the newcomers.

Malcolm had trusted Wiley so I knew I could trust him, too, but the tall, thin shadow that stalked his way into view was another matter.

I couldn’t see much, except the way he had his hands tucked into his pockets and walked like he’d soiled his pants. Wiley didn’t seem happy to see him at all when his raised voice filled the fields, but not clear enough for me to make out. I understood enough to realize this was not the man Wiley had been expecting.

The other man shrugged, and the pair argued for several seconds until Wiley tore off his hat and stalked back to our car.

My car door was wrenched open, and Wiley stuck his long, unshaven face in. “My nephew Taylen is going to take you. He’s stupid, but he will get you there.”

I didn’t want someone stupid to take me anywhere, but Wiley was motioning me out. He didn’t attempt to take my bag and I didn’t ask him to as I followed him across the short distance to where Taylen slumped against the side of the other car, ankles crossed like he was enjoying a summer afternoon.

“Taylen, you know the rules. No questions. Don’t even talk to her. Drive her straight to the airport and drop her off. Once you’re done and she’s off safely, I will wire you the money.”

Taylen was a kid. Barely older than I was with a gap between his front teeth and a clammy face full of pimples on the verge of popping. His murky, gray eyes took me in with an interest I was all too familiar with and immediately felt the need to pull my coat tighter around me.

“Shit, she looks like one of ‘em celebrities bitches,” he drawled. “But like when they’re going to rehab. Still fuckin hot though.”

I didn’t understand what that meant, but Wiley slapped him with his hat. “Mind your manners and keep your mouth shut. I don’t know what Lenny was thinking sending you when I fucking told him it had to be him, but you’re here.”

He reached for the backdoor and jerked the handle. It opened with a squeal of rusted hinges. He held it open and ushered me inside.

The cabin reeked.

It boiled with so many various stenches I couldn’t even fathom how anyone could stomach it. Cigarettes and cooked meat sprinkled with the sweet stench of rot and human waste. The seats stuck to my palm as I scooted down. A sharp point poked my backside, but I stayed in place, refusing to touch the mountain of filthy rags piled high next to me. Empty cans and boxes caught beneath my heels and something squished. I was ready to throw myself out, but Wiley had already closed the door. He said several heated things to Taylen that seemed to faze the other man little.

It ended quickly when Wiley ambled back to the other car and Taylen was rolling in behind the wheel of ours. He didn’t say a word as he turned the keys. A sputtering, grumbling sound filled the cabin, but nothing happened. He turned the key a few more times before it roared to life.

“It’s like a woman,” Taylen said suddenly. “You gotta stroke her just right.”

I had no idea what he was talking about, but his tone made my stomach queasy ... queasier.

Taylen spoke too much and turned the radio up too high and shouted, this is my jam. I always liked peanut butter better, but the music was awful. Loud, screaming slam of drums and something like a bandsaw. It shrieked through the silence until I was certain my ears were going to bleed.

“So, like what’s your deal?” he asked, flipping the noise down and studying me through the mirror. “You don’t look like the kind of folk my uncle usually transports unless you have a few goodie bags up that tight ass of yours.”

I knew better than to respond. I clutched the bag tighter to my chest and focused on the dark span of nothing on every side.

“Do you even talk or are you like deaf or something?”

It did occur to me that I could tell him that if I were deaf, I wouldn’t be able to hear his question anyway. He probably meant mute. I didn’t have the strength to figure it out.

He scoffed. “You hot bitches are always the same. You think you’re better than everyone else. Like, I’m a good guy. I work hard and I got dough. I could spoil you. Get you all the best bags and shit, but you gotta act like you’re worth something.”

He was getting angry.

I could feel the ripple. The invisible cord of tension tightening in the air. It was the same energy as when Mother had her parties, and the guests drank too much and got too bold.

The car bounced and shuddered across the uneven dirt. The metal rattled violently, the aggressive grind of metal and trembling glass as he took a sharp turn off the path. I nearly slid into the mound of filth next to me.

His words are still snapping around us, tangling with the scream of whatever was coming from the radio, but I could understand enough to feel my skin prickle and my stomach hurt.

Abruptly, he went silent.

Maybe because I wasn’t reacting the way he wanted.

Maybe he ran out of words.

But an icy chill had leached into the space that I couldn’t keep at bay no matter how close I pressed the folds of my coat together or how tight I hugged my bag to my chest.

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